I like my knees.
Of all the body parts below my waist, my knees are the only ones that I can bring close enough to my eyes to study them (as opposed to, say my ankles or my toes).
The skin is stretched taut when I’m sitting down, making them the perfect canvas.
They knock into furniture, warning the rest of my body against potential bruises.
They bear the brunt of my falls, carrying the scars of battles won, and lost.
And when I am sad, they support me.
When I am lonely, I hug my knees.
When I am tired, hunched over panting, I hold my knees for comfort.
When all seems dark, they offer solace for my weary head.
When I can stand tall, their dimpled faces cheer me on.
The knees are the best parts of the body to draw on.
I like my knees.
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